


Heir of the Progenitors

by GremlinJack



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:01:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23414953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GremlinJack/pseuds/GremlinJack
Summary: Waking up with a pretty girl giving you a hand job is pretty damn awesome. Less awesome if you don't know the girl. And if the girl is an alien - the outer space kind. And if you're waking up in a medical lab instead of your bedroom. And if the girl is now screaming...A multi-chapter commission by Shaderic
Kudos: 5





	1. Prologue

Shaleen Jan Duar de Svartoff - "J.D." to her friends - gave a deep sigh as her shuttle docked with the space station. As soon as she set foot off the shuttle, she would officially be back on duty. For another nine S-months. Not that she disliked her job. Very few people stayed in space if they disliked working there. Even thousands of years after the warp drive and artificial gravity tech became commonplace, 90% of the population of any given species could be found living and working at the bottom of a natural gravity well. Space was still the home of the enthusiasts, the oddballs, and the occasional misanthropes.  
  
What drew the sigh was the thought of going nine standard months with nothing between her legs except her vibrator.  
  
J.D.'s particular subspecies originated from Artos V. This made her 1.9 meters of lean athletic orange skinned femininity with a spiky black mane of hair. A femininity that was very much on display, since Artosians' outer skin comprised of extremely fine scales that rendered clothing largely unnecessary. This was very much by design.  
  
When J.D.'s ancestors had first settled the Artos system, the sole inhabitable planet had an axial tilt that could be best described as extreme. Coupled with the fact that Artos V's annual revolution took only 260% of a standard year, and it was a planet that suffered from wide temperature fluctuations, from a very long summer to the equally long and harsh winters. Faced with such a challenge, her ancestors had turned to the same solution as all the other known subspecies of Humanity - genetic engineering. The result was a thick finely scaled skin that was as sensitive as normal skin while being both damage resistant and capable of keeping an Artosian comfortable at ambient temperatures between 260 and 320 Kelvin. Evolutionary pressure in the one hundred thousand years since had only refined and improved it.  
  
Out of the millions of known genetic modifications that the descendants of humanity had applied to themselves over the millennia, Artosian skin was usually rated in the top 0.1% for general usefulness. J.D. would be lying if she said she didn't feel some pride on behalf of her ancestors' ingenuity.  
  
However, all this genetic and psionic tinkering had a downside. One of the most common issues that the first human colonies had faced had been a lack of population. Since the first wave of colonization had been in the form of generational slowships, a colony had no one to turn to but themselves if some disaster wiped out a portion of the populace. Since this was an era before reliable artificial uteri, it fell to the females to keep the colony going. Which meant one of the genetic tweaks that was almost universal was one which increased the birth ratio of females to males... and in the case of the Artosians, heightened female libido.  
  
Which left one poor J.D. high and dry without a man to satisfy her. The station itself was tiny with only eight other permanent staff, two males and six females. Unfortunately, one male was part of a married Artosian couple who were (rather selfishly, in J.D.'s opinion) not open to any additions, and the other was Betelian. There was nothing wrong with Betelians as people, but their males tended to be excessively hairy and possessed of a distinct musk that she found immensely off-putting. But it seemed to work for them, since the two Betelian women had come to an amicable agreement sharing his bunk space.  
  
The other three girls on staff were from Jinoa and all in the same boat as J.D., but unlike her two of them were bisexual and the third an outright lesbian. They were perfectly happy to help each other out when the urge struck. She'd tried to join them, since Jinoan women were absolutely _adorable_ by Artosian standards, but she found herself to be depressingly straight. They had some fun together, but it couldn't quite scratch that itch.  
  
Sometimes, J.D. wished she could have been born in the early days, when each space mission was exclusively manned by members from the same planet. Alas, they were now in the era of interplanetary cooperation and interstellar mega-corps. Which meant mixed-race crews.  
  
_Just two more years,_ she reminded herself. The ancient cache of progenitor tech that they were exploring wasn't expected to take more than two S-years to clear, and then she'd be on a new assignment, hopefully one with a willing male of her own species.  
  
"Hey J.D., welcome back!"  
  
"Lerry!" J.D. broke into a smile as she saw her friend. Lerry - properly Lerry6417 - was one of the Jinoans, and her closest friend aboard the mobile station that they all called home. Jinoans didn't look much different from base human, except they were below 150cm tall and purple of skin. The shortness was supposedly natural, but the skin was a semi-successful attempt to supplement their nutritional intake with photosynthesis. Semi-successful because Jinoans did wear clothing, like the dark grey top and blue shorts Lerry was in right now.  
  
The two hugged, and then Lerry's voice turned sly, "I missed you, momma."  
  
J.D. groaned. "Come on Lerry, I just got in. Let me get settled in at least." J.D. loved Lerry as a friend, she really did. But the younger woman had a fetish for mother-daughter disciplinary roleplay and according to her, J.D. was by far the most convincing 'mom' she'd ever had. The height difference probably had something to do with.  
  
"I don't know, should I?"  
  
J.D. groaned again. She recognized that look in her friend's eye, the little imp was already into her role of selfish brat. "Lerry, if I promise to thrash you later, will you promise to drop the act?"  
  
Immediately Lerry straightened up. "Sorry, J.D., I didn't mean to pressure. I was just teasing you know. But I did miss you."  
  
J.D. huffed. "Amazingly, so did I. I have no idea why."  
  
"Oh please. We both know you have a mean streak, and you love having a chance to unleash it," smirked Lerry.  
  
"Yeah, yeah. Fill me in? What's been going on while I've been away?"  
  
"Well, we're cooking up a new Pro-clone."  
  
"What? What happened to the old one?"  
  
"Failed an ID check attached to a psi-rift," sighed Lerry. "Shame, it was a pretty smart one too. Might have hit sapience threshold in a few decades."  
  
This was why the mission to excavate a cache left behind by the original human race, called the Progenitors, had such a small staff attached. After the initial wave of slowship colonization, the home of humanity had gone silent for tens of thousands of years. When they re-emerged, they had done so with warp engines. These FTL equipped humans had found their progeny, but instead of re-establishing contact, had left behind caches of technology for them to find, including the warp drive that was now universal.  
  
Their reasons for doing so was shrouded in mystery, but was probably due to some philosophical stance. Furthering the mystery was how, seemingly just a few short centuries later, some other Progenitors had come along and had either destroyed, confiscated, or outright booby-trapped the caches with lethal defenses. Defenses that were almost universally gene-locked to permit only Progenitor DNA.  
  
Sometimes, species would get lucky and find caches that were undefended, and would often include congratulatory messages welcoming them to the stars. Most of the time though, they had to proceed with extreme caution. In the early days, defenses had sometimes cost hundreds if not thousands of lives. The why was still not clear, but the accepted theory was that shortly after discovering FTL, the Progenitors had given way to a far more xenophobic culture that looked down on those who had drifted away from the base Human form. It would certainly explain the many booby traps tied to genetics.  
  
Unfortunately, there were no Progenitors to ask. When some people had finally found their way to Sol, they found the home of humanity a lifeless wasteland. Many other suspected post-FTL Progenitor colony worlds were also found glassed or simply dead. The most likely reason was civil war, since humanity had yet to find any other intelligent species. But the details remained unknown. All that was left of them were millions of vaults secreted within asteroids and scattered throughout the sector, most of them actively inimical to human life.  
  
Of course, human ingenuity wouldn't accept simply taking the losses that the vault defenses would inflict. Instead, like their ancestors, they turned to genetics. The Progenitors might be dead, but enough of their remains had been found to partially reconstruct their DNA. Splice it with some from modern near-Progenitor species and you had DNA that could mostly fool the Progenitor gene-locks.  
  
Naturally, it wasn't quite that easy. Apart from the morality of cloning a thinking being to act as a living mine detector, no one wanted to wait decades for the clones to mature properly. However, speed-grown clones would be of no use, their brains being that of a newborn, minus the ability to learn.  
  
The key lay in psionics. Psionics as a field had been an outgrowth of the warp drive. In the space between stars, the descendants of humanity found a realm where thought and action were indistinguishable. Manipulating it to do anything useful was an entirely different matter. The number of people who could naturally utilize psionics were vanishingly small. It took centuries of experimentation with the warp drive, combined with hints left by the Progenitors, to create tools that could enhance a normal person's psionic potential to the point where they could do something useful.  
  
Psionics now lay at the center of interstellar communication, short-range telepathy, and a whole host of metamaterial manufacturing processes, and the field was still growing. In the case of Progenitor clones, psionics could be used to let the newborn brain reach out through the warp to pluck enough knowledge and intellect from the latent psionic potential of all humanity to bestow upon the clone a rudimentary vocabulary and enough intelligence to qualify as a trainable household pet.  
  
These speed grown clones were slow stunted things that might, if they lived long enough, eventually get smart enough to count as sapient. And the exploration companies liked them that way. Truly intelligent beings would count as human, which then brought in pesky things like human rights and hazard pay.  
  
J.D. had heard of the many morality debates that the practice had spawned, but didn't really care. What she did care, though, was getting a good look at the new product.  
  
Part of the mystique that made the Progenitors such a fascinating topic for the lay public was just how universally attractive they were. Of the dozens of subspecies of humanity, any one would find only a tiny handful of others attractive. Not so for the Progenitors. From the day the very first clone had been made, a new sex doll industry had sprung up. Archaeological digs like theirs were actually in the minority for Progenitor clones produced, even though living sex dolls were definitely on the grey side of the law. If not outright illegal, depending on the system.  
  
Soon enough, the two of them had made their way to the medical bay. The clone had already been decanted, and J.D. had to keep from drooling. 170 cm of smooth dusky muscle with chiseled abs with a stubble of black hair. Then she blinked. "Hey, Bella," she called out to the medtech, another Jinoan. "This one looks a tad different from the last. And I don't mean the dark skin. Something's off with the bone structure."  
  
Bella preened. "Noticed that, did you? This one's special. Been working on it for years. As far as I can tell, it is as close to being pure Progenitor as is humanly possible." The older Jinoan was a highly experienced cloning tech with a side hobby in genetic engineering, and she now puffed up in pride. "This beauty's guaran-damn-teed to get past those lacks, 100%, without fail!"  
  
Lerry looked anxious. "Are we allowed to do that? We have company stock DNA for a reason!"  
  
"Relax, we're allowed to use nonstandard DNA as long as certain genetic markers are intact."  
  
"So, pure Progenitor. No wonder he looks so tasty," mused J.D.  
  
Bella glared at her. "Before you ask, no I did NOT install a libido in this one."  
  
The Artosian held up her hands. "Easy, Bella. You know I was joking." The last time they'd grown a male clone J.D. had suggested they give it a functioning libido so that it could fulfill two needs at once. The resulting lecture from Bella regarding the _many_ laws such an act would break had left her head ringing. Looking back down at the body, J.D. sighed. "Such a waste. Hey Bella, can I at least give it a once-over?"  
  
Bella rolled her eyes. "I've already finished the psi-learning. It should be waking up soon. I'm going to tidy up the vat. If you have to molest the poor animal, get it out of your system before I come back."  
  
"You're the best!" Lerry cheered after her.  
  
Smiling, J.D. ran a gentle hand along the muscular pectorals. The skin was so much more delicate than an Artosian, but pleasant to touch all the same. And the carefully grown muscles underneath were a treat.  
  
"Hey, how big do you think this thing can get?" Lerry, of course, had gone straight for the prize, and was playing with its genitals.  
  
"Not much, seeing as how it can't get it up," came the dry response.  
  
"I mean, if it could. Like, it's already so big just at rest..."  
  
"Big for you, maybe, shortstack." chuckled J.D. as she moved lower to admire the strong-looking calves. Good calves were important to Artosians.  
  
"Uh... J.D... it's getting... bigger."  
  
"What are you..." J.D. froze. Lerry's small hand looked even smaller, as growing out of it stood a proud dark-veined pillar.  
  
_Fifteen centimeter minimum. Not bad even for an Artosian._ That was the first thing to cross J.D.'s mind. Then her eyes flicked to the clone's face.  
  
Its eyes were open. Eyes that were rapidly sharpening with intelligence as it locked on to the hand holding on to its privates. Its - no, _his -_ lips opened and a string of sounds came out. Sounds that made no sense, but had the unmistakable lilt and cadence of a formal language.  
  
For one long moment, Lerry seemed pinned by his gaze, her hand still unconsciously massaging the engorged penis. Then she opened her mouth, and screamed.


	2. Chapter 2

_A\N: Commissioned by Shaderic_  
  
 **Chapter 1**  
  
One of my friends once complained about waking up with morning wood, although he didn't explain why very clearly. Maybe he was annoyed about not getting any satisfaction? Dude, if it bothers you that much, take five and rub one out. Or don't. Just don't tell me about it.  
  
Why do I bring this up? Because I have woken up with morning wood many times in my life, but never before did it feel so ready to pop. I honestly haven't felt like this since I was a teenager going through puberty. Everything I just said before? Those were literally my first thoughts as I woke. Yeah, my waking brain is weird.  
  
My second thoughts were more pragmatic. I was cold, and I couldn't feel my sheets. The only warmth was the mattress below me, and an almost excessive warmth around my erect penis. Did my sheets slip off the bed only to get caught by the mast?  
  
In the hazy land between waking and sleeping, the thought of my sheets being held in place only by my erection sounded absolutely hilarious. I was filled with determination to witness this scene. Forcing open my sleep-heavy eyes, I looked down at myself. And saw a slim purple hand wrapped around my member.  
  
I immediately relaxed. This was obviously a dream where an alien cosplayer was giving me a handjob. I'd had wet dreams before but this was a new one. And since the alien was also a cute girl, I had absolutely no intention of waking up until I had to. Instead, I called out to the cosplayer, "Why don't you sit on my face so I can do you while you do me?"  
  
I did not expect the screaming. Nor the sudden pain when she squeezed way too hard, before letting go and jumping back far enough to run up against the wall. And then I realized someone else was shouting nearby, and holy hell how did I not notice the giant orange lizard-woman standing right next me?  
  
By this time, I'd figured out that I was awake. Having someone nearly wrench off your dick really gets the adrenaline flowing. My first thought was that someone had hired cosplaying strippers. Maybe me, if I'd been drunk enough. It would explain why I don't remember letting them into my apartment.  
  
My second thought, was that this wasn't my apartment. The walls were the wrong color, and the cot I was lying on was way too thin and hard. So, did I get drunk and pass out in someone else's house? That would make more sense, it would even explain the unexpected strippers.  
  
My third thought, was that the purple stripper was damn unprofessional. What was she acting so shocked for? If she was one of the 'look but don't touch' variety, then she shouldn't have started with the touching! She hadn't hurt me much, but no human being can calmly accept an attack on the genitals.  
  
My fourth thought was that I was completely naked. Amazing as it may seem, this was the first time I started to think that something might be wrong. Waking up in a strange house? I can deal. Alien cosplayer strippers? Clearly the work of a man of culture. But complete nudity? I could see myself taking off my shirt in a fit of alcohol-fueled excitement. But under no circumstances could I imagine being so drunk that I'd be willing to go full monty.  
  
Which meant someone had stripped me after I had passed out. And now I was annoyed. It didn't matter if the people stripping me had been these two babes. Someone had violated my person without my consent. Come to think of it, that girl had been feeling up while I was out. Now my annoyance was turning into anger. It had been all right when I'd thought it just a dream, but it is simply not acceptable to touch someone sexually while they are unconscious. Not. Acceptable. Did they think I'd be OK with it because I was a guy?... Alright, I wasn't that upset about it, but only because the person doing it was a cute girl. I was still going to give them grief over it though.  
  
"All right, first things first, who's the joker who took my clothes, and where the fuck are they?" I growled.  
  
The purple cutie flinched away from me. No! I am the one being wronged here, dammit, I refuse to feel guilty! The orange beanpole with the Saiyan hair stepped forward, raising her hands in a clear 'calm down' gesture. Then she rattled off something that was definitely not in English.  
  
I frowned at her, trying to figure out which language she was speaking. Seeing my obvious confusion, she repeated herself, only slower.  
  
Now, normally, this would be where I would make a scathing comment on how only idiots think talking louder and slower is some kind of universal translator. I'd say it even if the I knew the other person couldn't understand me. This time, the words stuck in my throat. Because, against all laws of nature, it actually seemed to work. Now that I could hear her words more clearly, flashes of meaning started to come through.  
  
If I had to compare it to anything, it was like listening to a native Spanish speaker. I took Spanish in high school, but I never spent much time around anyone fluent in the language. So, on the few occasions that I would run into a native speaker, I'd be completely lost unless they slowed down enough that I could understand some of the words.  
  
This was the same deal. Now that she was speaking more slowly, I could start picking out a few words. She seemed to be saying something along the lines of, "Please calm down, we mean you no harm." That was good to hear. Just one problem - whatever language this was, it most certainly wasn't Spanish. But Spanish and English were the only languages I knew, apart from a bit of Japanese I'd picked up from anime. Whatever language she was using, it was none of those things. If anything it sounded vaguely eastern European. Like the terrorists from Die Hard. Which led to the very important question of how I could understand anything of what she was saying.  
  
It was at this point that I started to seriously take in my surroundings. First, the walls were a plain cream with a shiny finish. In fact, it almost looked as if the walls were plastic, the paint job was reflecting light so well. The lighting was on the yellow side but otherwise unremarkable. There was a door to the far right that seemed to be of the recessed sliding variety with an electronic lock. And the room was chock full of equipment that I didn't recognize. I did recognize a certain smell in the air - a faint antiseptic smell that would be recognizable to any human being who had ever set foot in a doctor's office.  
  
Waking up in a strange place. No clothes. Strange people. Lots of weird equipment that was now beginning to take a suspiciously medical appearance. My brain immediately jumped to the worst case scenario - I'd been kidnapped by organ smugglers! I frantically patted myself down. No fresh scars or stitches, that was good. No body hair, that was bad. You don't shave someone unless you're planning to operate on them.  
  
Any doubts about the matter was laid to rest by the third girl who came running in from around the corner to my left. She looked like the other purple one, only a touch shorter, hair a darker brown, and skin a lighter shade of purple. But, far more relevant to my distressed thoughts, was the full body covering she was wearing. Form fitting gray clothes covering everything below her neck, surgical gloves of a similar color, and what looked a lot like a surgical mask, currently hanging down from her neck. The similarity in function, if not form, to a surgeon's scrubs was too close for me to miss. I could feel my heart rate spike. At the same time, I was filled with determination. If they wanted my kidneys, they weren't getting them for free!  
  
I decided I wasn't getting out of here by sitting on my ass. This was a time for action. I tried to leap off the bed into a defensive stance. I didn't have much faith in my blue belt in Brazilian jiu-jitsu to get me past professional criminals, but I was willing to give it a shot.  
  
Unfortunately, the moment my feet hit the ground, my head started spinning. Did I get up too fast? Was whatever they used to put me under still in my system? I could feel my heartbeat thundering in my ears and my breath coming fast. _No! I am not going to pass out like some damsel in distress!_ My left hand slapped down on the cot, steadying me until the dizziness could fade.  
  
After a long minute of looking at the floor and taking deep breaths, my vision became steadier. My whole body still felt odd though. It was a niggling thing, as if my hands and feet were just not where they were supposed to be. Ignoring that for now, I looked around again. All three girls... No, I couldn't call them girls, could I? The short stature might give an impression of youth, but the newcomer had a stern and serious expression on her face that definitely gave her a far more mature air. I didn't know why, but in spite of their outlandish appearance I got the feeling that all three were well into adulthood. The one who'd been playing with my dick was now up against the wall, staring at me wide-eyed, but not scared. And the tall ( _really_ tall) orange woman with scales on her skin and the newcomer both had their hands raised in a peaceful gesture. The newcomer, seeing my attention on her, now spoke in that strange language. The gist was the same as before, no one will hurt you, please calm down.  
  
Now that my blood was no longer pounding in my head, I started thinking again. While I was still very nervous, several things about my current situation weren't quite conforming to my initial pessimistic assumption. For starters, no restraints. That should be step one if you plan to start cutting into someone against their will, whether they are sedated or not. Point two, the costumes. They were very realistic. Too realistic. And completely out of place in any medical facility, illegal or otherwise. And finally, the language. A language that I definitely did not speak, but could understand anyway.  
  
All throughout my life I'd been a steady consumer of science fiction and fantasy, and in recent years I'd gotten adventurous and waded into the murky world of fanfiction and Japanese light novels. If this was not a very unorthodox organ-harvesting operation, then either I was hallucinating or I'd been kidnapped by aliens. Or I'd gone full isekai and woken up in another world.  
  
If I was hallucinating, then I was fucked, no two ways about it. You can't fight your own brain if it starts feeding you false signals. The only solution was to stay calm and do whatever the medical professionals said. Except telling the difference between a medical professional and a figment of your imagination is also impossible while hallucinating. I rarely said it out loud even to those I was close to, but I'd always been secretly afraid of mental illness, because they represented a loss of control at the most fundamental level. The stories which scared me the most were always the ones involving things that could compromise a person's agency.  
  
Maybe because it frightened me, but I quickly dismissed the possibility of hallucination. I rationalized it as 'since I can't tell the difference, might as well treat it as real', but in hindsight, I simply chose the path that would let me maintain the illusion of control. Even if, from a rational perspective, 'hallucination' was the most likely option.  
  
This left me with alien abduction or isekai, the first slightly more likely than the second. Since the isekai adventure was usually a one-way ticket, I decided to hope for the option that might one day see me back in my own home. But whatever was the truth, I needed to establish communications. Fortunately, someone seemed to have slipped me a Babel fish.  
  
"Where am I, and who are you?" I asked, trying my best to keep my voice steady.  
  
My tone must not have been calm enough, because all three seemed to tense just a smidge. The newcomer - you know what, I'm going to mentally call her Doc Purple until I get a name - said something else, all nice and slow. The translation must be getting easier, because I'm almost certain she said, "We do not understand. Can you understand us?"  
  
So, the translation wasn't two-way? Well, I had spoken in English. Did I want to try my hand at Klingon or whatever the fuck they were speaking instead? Not seeing much choice, I carefully tried to form the sounds.  
  
I have been told since that my starting accent was bad and my grammar was worse, but I did manage to choke out a few words that approximately meant what I wanted to ask.  
  
The atmosphere grew measurably lighter as they heard my words. In fact, Doc Purple looked positively fascinated. Her reply had a noticeably eager tone, "I am (doctor?) Bella (string of numbers, what?). You are on moving space (building?) called (meaningless sounds and numbers)"  
  
A lot of it I didn't get, but it seemed that Doc Purple was actually Doc Bella, and I was somewhere in... "Space?" That last word came out loud.  
  
Doc Bella slowly repeated, "You are safe, do not be afraid."  
  
I shook my head in annoyance. "Space? Outside space?" I emphasized, while waving my hand in a circular manner above my head, indicating my surroundings. Or at least, that's what I hoped I indicated. All those jokes about hand gestures meaning different things to different people suddenly no longer seemed very funny.  
  
The doc looked at me helplessly. "What is space? Well, you know world, dirt? If you go very high --"  
  
She cut off as I waved her down impatiently. What I wanted to see was proof of her words. "Show me. Space. Show me." I repeated, trying to get the words as clear as possible.  
  
"You want to see... outer space?" My grasp of the language was definitely improving way faster than it ought. Almost as if I was remembering something I'd learned long ago rather than learning something new. Something was definitely up with that. I placed it on my things to ask after I had established the validity of the alien abduction theory.  
  
Moving slowly, Doc Bella moved over to a station on with a computer screen on it. With a quick tug, the screen came free. Either a wireless touchscreen or a full-up tablet, thin as a wafer and a fourteen-inch screen if I was judging it right. Absolutely no sign of any external buttons. She spent a minute tapping away at it, then starting moving over to where I was standing. Tall Orange said something too quick for me to catch, but the warning in her tone was clear, as was the reassurance in Doc Bella's reply. Both Tall Orange and Little Purple grew tenser as the doc moved over to my side, the screen tilted so I could see it.  
  
As she came closer, I suddenly remembered that I was naked as the day I was born. I was immediately struck by the urge to cover myself. Not just because of my nudity, but because all the tension had long since deflated my erection. Here I was naked and either hallucinating or abducted by aliens, and all I could think of was whether these ladies would find my flaccid instrument inadequate. Truly, the human mind is a wondrous thing. I forced myself to keep my hands at my side. They had already seen everything, and covering up now would only draw attention to my discomfort. I did turn slightly to the side though. That was just in case Bella decided to attack me suddenly, and not at all because of my embarrassment, no siree.  
  
Once the doc reached a spot from where I could see the screen clearly, she pointed at it. "View from outside," was her explanation.  
  
The screen was showing what looked like a view from a live camera. There were some numbers on one corner of the video that immediately reminded me of the timestamp on security recordings. There was also some script that was vaguely familiar. Maybe I could have puzzled out what they said if I concentrated, but my attention was taken up by picture on screen.  
  
The lighting was terrible. It took me several seconds to figure out what I was looking at. Eventually I pieced it out. It was a view of what looked like a stark rocky ridge, with a single structure squatting on the edge like a metal-and-plastic spider. Behind it you could see the inky blackness of space, and not a hint of the stars. As for the surface itself, you could see the curvature as it curled inwards to a horizon that looked very close indeed. The reason for the poor lighting was the harsh sunlight bathing the structure, while the shadows of the ridge were pitch black.  
  
Now I knew the phrase she'd use to describe this place. A space station, parked on an asteroid. Or at least, that's what it looked like.  
  
I realized I didn't actually know what a view from outer space looked like. Sure, I'd seen some NASA photos, but I'd never paid very close attention to them. It _looked_ genuine, but I had no way of telling for certain. What was important, though, was that none of the three looked particularly hostile. No one had made any attempt to recapture or sedate me. So, I wasn't in immediate danger, though I still had no clue how I'd ended up here.  
  
Which, naturally, was my next question. "Why am I here? How am I here? Why me?" The last was particularly important. _Why me_? I was no one important. A part-time coder and freelance graphics designer with one divorce and no close friends or children. It occurred to me that I might have been picked because of my isolation, but I did have a family who cared about me, even if we lived far apart. And who would be going out of their minds in short order if I didn't get a message to them. "I need talk to family!" I couldn't help but blurt out.  
  
The doc's eyes went round in what I was certain was surprise. "You have family? You have name?"  
  
I stared. _What sort of question was that?!_ Seeing my confusion, she pointed at herself, "Bella 8823." Then she pointed at me.  
  
I replied slowly, "Chris Carter." I paused for a moment as I searched for the words to describe myself further. "Computer worker. Age 38. Earth."  
  
Bella was back to staring at me. The tablet slipped from her fingers to clatter to the floor, unheeded. Looking behind her, I could see the other two shared her expression of what could only be called stupefied fascination. It would be the look of someone who'd just seen a bear not just dance, but pull off a flawless tango.  
  
Their stares were just starting to get uncomfortable when a loud buzz came from the door. A deep voice, perhaps male, spoke through an intercom, "Doctor Bella? -- -- ? -- request for help."  
  
I froze. Of course she sent for help while she was using the pad! I was already outnumbered, and I didn't see anything that would be useful as a weapon. I thought of, and immediately dismissed the idea of taking the doctor hostage. I was never strong, I couldn't threaten anyone unarmed. Not with two others right in the room, and who knows how many outside the door.  
  
My fear must have shown on my face, because the doctor once more lifted both hands in a gesture of surrender, while calling at the door. "It's alright Zuzi(?), there is no trouble."  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
"Yes. I made mistake. No trouble." She turned back to me, her eyes once more lighting up with a frankly disturbing gleam. Combined with her gear, it put me painfully in mind of a mad scientist who'd just found an interesting new test subject. "There is no trouble at all."


End file.
